Chapter 2: The Photograph That Shouldn't Exist
For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except the blood pounding in my ears.
Sarah had been married.
She had given birth to a child.
And the man standing in front of me was the father of that child.
“How?”” I whispered.
Ricardo bent to retrieve the photograph.
“Not here.””
“No.”” My voice came out sharper than I'd intended.
“You don't get to show me a picture of my sister holding a newborn and tell me she's dead without explaining anything.””
His eyes narrowed.
“You're speaking to a man you know nothing about.””
“And you're speaking to a woman whose sister vanished without a word!””
Leo startled at my raised voice.
I immediately softened, pressing a kiss against his hair.
“I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm not angry with you.””
He tucked his face beneath my chin.
Ricardo watched us with an expression I couldn't decipher.
“Her name was Sarah Moretti,” he said finally.
“We married in a private ceremony. Only a few people knew. She wanted a quiet life, and I promised her I could give her one.””
A bitter laugh escaped me.
“Quiet? You?””
“I loved her.””
The simplicity of those three words stopped me.
There was no arrogance in his voice. No attempt to impress me.
Just pain.
“Then why didn't she tell me?”” I asked.
“Because she believed keeping you away from my world would protect you.””
“What world?””
Ricardo glanced toward the men standing around the table.
“The kind where people use the people you love to hurt you.””
I looked at the bodyguards.
One of them, a broad-shouldered man with a scar cutting through his left eyebrow, had been watching me since I picked up Leo.
When our eyes met, he looked away.
“What happened to Sarah?”” I demanded.
Ricardo took a breath.
“Fourteen months ago, her car exploded outside a private medical clinic in Queens. The vehicle burned before my men reached it. We found blood, personal belongings, and enough evidence for the authorities to identify her.””
“But no body?””
His silence answered me.
My stomach twisted.
“You never found her body?””
“The fire was severe.””
“That's not what I asked.””
Ricardo's jaw flexed.
“No. We didn't recover a body we could identify.””
I felt the restaurant tilting around me.
For eighteen months, I'd called hospitals, police stations, shelters, and morgues. I'd spent my savings on private investigators who eventually stopped answering my calls.
The police had classified Sarah as a missing adult.
I'd been told to accept that she might never come home.
Now the man who claimed to be her husband was telling me she'd been presumed dead after an explosion without a confirmed body.
“Why didn't you contact me?””
“Because I didn't know you existed until tonight.””
I stared at him.
“That is impossible.””
“Sarah never gave me your full name. She said you were estranged.””
“We weren't estranged!””
My voice cracked.
“We talked almost every day. She helped me pay my bills. She called me three weeks ago!””
Ricardo went rigid.
“When?””
“Three weeks ago.””
“What exactly did she say?””
I reached for my phone with shaking fingers.
“I saved the voicemail.””
Ricardo gestured toward the private dining room at the back of the restaurant.
“Come with me.””
“No.””
His expression darkened.
“Clara, I need to hear that message.””
“And I need to know why my sister's husband didn't search for me.””
“I did search for her. Every day.””
“Then start answering questions.””
Something flickered across his face. Perhaps surprise. Perhaps reluctant respect.
He nodded once.
“Fair enough.””
He led us into the private room, where thick velvet curtains blocked the windows and a security camera watched the door.
I refused to sit until Ricardo ordered everyone except the scarred bodyguard to leave.
“Marco stays,” he said.
The man with the scar stepped forward.
“Boss, perhaps we should move Leo upstairs.””
Leo immediately tightened his arms around my neck.
“No! I stay with Aunt Clara!””
The words struck me harder than Ricardo's revelation.
Aunt Clara.
He had never met me before tonight, yet the child had somehow decided I belonged to him.
Ricardo looked at his son for a long moment.
Then he turned to Marco.
“Wait outside.””
Marco hesitated.
“Boss—”
“Did I ask you to repeat yourself?””
Marco lowered his head and left, closing the door behind him.
I sat beside Leo on a leather sofa and opened my voicemail.
Sarah's voice filled the room.
“Clara, sweetheart, if you're hearing this, I need you to do something for me.””
My breath caught.
It was her. The slight rasp when she was tired. The warmth at the end of my name. The familiar rhythm that had carried me through every nightmare since she vanished.
“Find Leo. Please. Find my baby.””
A faint sound came through the recording, like a door slamming.
Then Sarah whispered, “And whatever you do, don't trust the men guarding him.””
The message ended.
Ricardo didn't move.
His face had gone so pale that the scarlet mark on his lower lip stood out sharply.
I replayed the last sentence.
Don't trust the men guarding him.
“Who was she talking about?”” I asked.
Ricardo stared at the phone.
“My security team.””
“Your men?””
“Yes.””
“Then how is your son supposed to be safe with them?””
“He's been safe.””
I looked at Leo.
“Has he?””
The toddler had gone very quiet. He was playing with the silver heart between his fingers, turning it over as though it were a familiar toy.
Ricardo rubbed both hands over his face.
“Leo has been having nightmares since Sarah died. He wakes up screaming, asks for his mother, and refuses to let anyone near him. We hired specialists.
Child psychologists. Nannies. Nothing helped.””
“Maybe because everyone keeps telling him she's gone.””
“She is gone!””
The words exploded from him.
Leo jerked in my arms.
Ricardo immediately looked stricken.
I stood.
“Don't shout at him.””
He stared at me, breathing hard.
Then, astonishingly, he lowered his head.
“I'm sorry, Leo.””
The boy watched him without answering.
I sat again and stroked Leo's hair.
“Sarah called me three weeks ago,” I said.
“If she's alive, why hasn't she come to me?””
Ricardo opened his mouth.
Before he could answer, Leo slipped his hand into the pocket of his tiny jacket.
“I have Mommy's picture.””
He produced a folded piece of paper, worn soft at the edges.
Ricardo went completely still.
“Where did you get that?””
“Uncle Marco gave it to me.””
My eyes snapped toward the door.
Leo unfolded the paper with the solemn concentration of a child handling something precious.
It showed Sarah standing outside a hospital entrance.
She looked thinner than I remembered. Her hair was shorter, and a dark bruise shadowed one cheek.
But she was unmistakably alive.
I grabbed the photograph.
“When was this taken?””
Leo pointed at the picture.
“Yesterday.””
Ricardo's face transformed.
He took the paper from me and turned it over.
Six words were written on the back in Sarah's unmistakable handwriting.
Ricardo, Marco knows who tried killing me.
Ricardo stared at the message.
Then he rose slowly, his expression turning frighteningly calm.
“Clara, take Leo and stay behind me.””
“Why?””
He reached for the door.
“Because the man who has protected my son since birth may be the reason my wife is still running for her life.””
The handle began turning from the other side.
May you like
And someone whispered through the door:
“Boss, we need to talk. Alone.””
